Breaking Free by Isabel Lucero

8

“I don’t think we do,”I reply, shoving my shower bag into the locker and removing my clothes.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, his voice thick with frustration.

“I’m trying to get dressed, Campbell. Then I’ll be heading home, where I’ll start getting ready to go out tonight. Is that okay with you?”

He jolts up, slamming my locker closed. “Enough with the smartass bullshit. Are you trying to piss me off? Make me jealous? Why are you all buddy-buddy with Jay now? Going out and exchanging numbers.”

I relax a little, crossing my arms over my bare torso as I watch him. My teeth scrape across my bottom lip briefly as I take in his flustered appearance.

“You seem a little pissed off.”

“Don’t fuck around with my friends just to get to me.”

“You know what, Campbell? Maybe I’m not thinking about you at all. You tell me to leave you alone because you don’t want anybody to know what we did, so I say I’ll leave you alone. Now I’m talking to other people, and you can’t seem to stand it. You think I don’t see you watching me every time we’re on the field?”

“You’re my competition. Of course I’m watching.”

I snort. “You think I didn’t see the jealousy dripping from your eyes as I was talking to Jay? The hurt on your face when you saw me give him my number? You say you don’t want me talking to you, but you don’t want me talking to anyone else? I don’t think you have that right.”

He takes a few seconds to figure out his reply. “I don’t want you playing with Jay’s feelings. He’s into guys and you know that. Don’t make him think he has a chance if you’re only doing it to make me mad.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “You’re funny.”

“I’m serious, Dominic.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe I like Jay. He’s good looking, funny, and charismatic. And you know what else? He’s out of the closet. Stop thinking what I’m doing has anything to do with you. You’re not interested, right?”

I raise my brows at him, taking a step closer and waiting for his answer. His eyes track my movements, roaming down my face to my chest and abdomen. My towel hangs around my hips just like it did the first time I saw him.

Taking another step, I close the gap between us. “Right? You don’t want me? So I can fuck Jay if I want to. He’s single. I’m single. You’d be okay with that, wouldn’t you? You’re not gonna cock block your friend, are you?”

Anger mixed with desire swirls in his eyes as he watches me, his jaw tense as he clenches a fist at his side. I’m not worried he’s gonna punch me. I’m thinking he’s more concerned with touching me.

“Don’t,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t fuck Jay.”

He avoids eye contact, touching his chin to his chest as he looks down.

“Why?” I ask. Trevor’s chest heaves but he doesn’t look at me. I bring my finger to his chin and lift his head until he’s looking into my eyes. “Tell me why.”

I can read in his expression that he’s fighting the urge to tell me the truth. He doesn’t want to admit it. He’s afraid I’ll hold this admission over his head, and maybe I will, but I need to hear it.

“Because I don’t want you to.”

My lips curl up slightly and my hand slides to his neck, my fingers pressing on the base of his skull while my thumb skates over his cheek. “And why is that?”

He huffs and tries to move his head, but I bring him back and force him to meet my gaze. “Because I—”

A door closing and footsteps approaching forces us apart right before I get his answer.

“Hurry up, guys. It’s Friday,” Coach says with a grin as he spots us.

“Yes, Coach,” Trevor answers, his eyes lingering on me as he makes his getaway.

* * *

After getting home,I find my mom on the couch, watching TV. Like she said she was gonna do, she cleaned up the house a little bit and based on the slight curl of her hair, she showered today too.

“Hey,” I say, sitting next to her.

“Hi, honey. How was your day?”

I shrug. “Fine. How was yours?”

“About the same, I guess.”

“Did Ms. Anne come over today?”

“She did. She brought me some food. That was nice.”

I nod. “She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t really know how to feel, to be honest.”

Mom hasn’t opened up too much since I’ve been home. She’s aware of my feelings or lack thereof for my father, so she’s not surprised by my lack of emotion when it comes to his death. She hasn’t asked why I’m not sad or why I haven’t cried, just like I haven't asked her why she has.

Before I left for college, we had a fight about him. I yelled at her and asked why she kept us in the same house. I questioned if she cared about me or herself. I said a lot of things I wish I could take back, but I was an angry teenager.

I had been abused, but she’s been abused, too. She’s probably suffered more than I did, but I thought that would make it easier to leave. However, I know it wouldn’t have been easy. She had no money, no job, no family nearby, and probably felt like staying with him was her only choice. I’m sure she loved him in her own way, regardless of how he treated her.

“What do you mean?”

She gives me a tight smile, tilting her head. “I know you and your father didn’t get along at the end.”

“We never did, Mom.”

She nods, looking away. “I’m not a naive woman, Dom. I’m sure you think I’m stupid and selfish for staying when things were bad.”

“Mom.”

She holds up a hand. “Your father used to be a good man. I know you didn’t see a lot of that, but he cared about me. He loved us. I knew him when I was just a girl, and he was the most charming boy I had ever come across. He was outgoing and funny. But life got to him, like it does to many people. Some people succumb to their vices. Alcohol and pills were your father’s and he couldn’t rip himself from their grip.”

“I don’t think he deserves to be painted as a victim.”

“I’m not saying he was innocent. He could’ve tried harder and made better decisions.”

“Like not hitting us? Yeah, I’d say so.”

She takes a breath. “I was devastated at first, and I’m still sad. I grieve for the boy I met and the young man that had so much potential. I grieve for you because you never had the father you deserved. I’m worried about my future, but…” she dabs at her eyes and pulls herself together. “There are times when I wake up or walk in here and feel relief. I no longer have to walk on eggshells or worry what might ignite his rage. And in those moments, I feel guilty.”

I reach out and hold her hand in mine. “Don’t feel guilty, Mom. Your feelings, all of them, are valid and important. You feel how you feel.”

Tears trickle down her cheeks as she looks at me and her chin wobbles. “I’m sorry, Dom. I’m so sorry.”

Before I can say anything, she gets up and apologizes once more before rushing to her room.

Hours go by and she doesn’t come back out. I’m due to meet up with Jay soon, so I head to her door and knock.

“Mom?”

A few seconds later she replies. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says with a sniffle.

“I was gonna go out, but I can stay here.”

“No, no. Go. Have fun. I promise I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Be safe, okay?”

“Okay.” I wait a beat. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she replies in a shaky voice.